Cynthia stood outside the warehouse for a moment and watched as Mr. M drove his knee straight into Peyton's abdomen. The light-haired pacifist rolled onto the ground for a brief moment before he dug in his palms and pushed himself up.
"They have captured you now, bound your hands, and once they find out your identity, your wife will be in more danger."
Peyton breathed deeply and muttered a few words under his breath while he looked at an empty part of the park near the broken chain fence.
"Stand, we will try again," Mr. M said.
Mr. M came at him from behind. His right arm swung around Peyton's thin neck and his left came to close the lock. Peyton's breaths turned into wheezes. Cynthia waited in case his face started to blue. His elbows jabbed back erratically in a search of sensitive sections of his attacker. Even with contact, Mr. M's firm stomach offered too much resistance for Peyton's elbows to have an effect. His face grew redder, and he stomped his heel on Mr. M's foot.
"That might keep you alive for an extra minute or two, if your assailant does not have the authority to snap your neck." Mr. M released his hold and Peyton's hand went straight to his newly freed neck. "You have to use that opportunity to inflict more damage and then flee."
"Wouldn't they want to kill me?"
"Not necessarily. Until they are proved otherwise, another life post-disaster is an asset. If you somehow manage to get yourself into the facility, it will be more likely for them to kill you during an escape." Mr. M positioned himself in front of Peyton. "Attack me just as I have done to you."
Peyton slowly secured Mr. M's neck between his biceps and forearm. As he tried to bring the other arm around, Mr. M grabbed it and loosened the other one by shrugging his shoulders. In a quick motion, he bent down and threw Peyton onto the grass.
Cynthia had to blink twice before she let out a gasp. Both men turned toward her. Mr. M wasted no time helping Peyton off the ground and dusting off his back.
"Cynthia, what are you doing here?" Mr. M's brows creased and he tried to tuck his hands in the non-existent pockets in his shorts. His posture slumped slightly.
"I figured training exercises could use a nurse on hand more than anything else. I came to make sure my services aren't needed."
She was also quite bored. At the moment, Winston and his friends were off playing games. Vita had a kitchen shift and the facility managed well enough without her help for now. There wasn't much she could do without medicines. She could help clean and dress wounds, but most old injuries had healed by this point.
"We are being most careful," Mr. M said with a gentle smile. "I can show you too, should you ever have to defend yourself."
Without John around, the idea appealed to her. She had always relied on words, wit and the occasional weapon to get her out of a tough spot. If she and Winston ever were threatened, she would kick herself for passing up an opportunity like this.
Mr. M showed the move a couple more times with Peyton before they switched roles. Despite the slight height difference and larger weight difference, Peyton still managed to pivot Mr. M's body on his hip, drop his own shoulder toward the ground and propel the man forward.
"Cynthia, can Peyton attempt to flip you in case his assailant is smaller than he is?"
"Sure," Cynthia answered as she eyed the grass for any type of debris.
"It's soft after the second time, don't worry," Peyton assured her. His eyes shot over to the same empty spot he had eyed the whole session.
As she attempted to choke Peyton, Mr. M placed a calloused hand on her elbow to tighten the hold. "His assailants will not be gentle, nor should you."
Peyton grabbed her arm with two hands and she felt herself lowering with his body. Suddenly, she was in motion, and before she knew what happened, she looked up at the two men from the ground, still trying to force air back into her body.
"Are you alright?" Mr. M asked and extended his hand.
"I have to say, this is a first." She accepted the gesture as he pulled her up.
"Then we should switch to give you more practice."
Cynthia became the next victim as Mr. M coached her through loosening Peyton's hold and using her body to drive him forward. Once she started to use her body the way Mr. M coached, she realized the action didn't take as much strength as she imagined.
"Cynthia, you are a born fighter."
She laughed and pulled her hair out of the ponytail. A smile grew on her lips as she stood taller. It was a first to hear that praise. John, had had plenty of endearing terms for her, and she loved each one, but a fighter implied her strength and independence.
"It feels good, realizing that I have that much power over someone if they attacked me."
"How did you survive out there with everyone fighting for resources?"
"I started out with a few co-workers from the hospital. We had all been going on shift and I tried to bring in two teens, badly injured, who didn't make it. The hospital was badly hit in the earthquakes and the tornadoes got the rest of the survivors. We took shelter in a nearby building on a floor with no windows and cement walls."
"Intelligent choice."
"We all thought someone would come to rescue us. That's why I didn't rush off to find John and Winston. I thought... I was so naive." Cynthia closed her eyes and massaged her forehead to relieve the growing pressure of an incoming headache.
A warm hand gently soothed the fabric on the back of her shirt. She froze for a moment. Physical contact during the exercises had been necessary, this was... She had to settle on comforting and hoped those were his only intentions. After all, he had just shown her how to take down a man his size.
"Even if you had made it, John was gone far before you could have reached him."
Cynthia sniffled and nodded, despite the tears forming. Why couldn't she let the past rest in its rightful place?
"But Winston-" A chill ran through imagining all the death that surrounded her precious son. How frightened must he have been?
"Now you are both here and both safe. Against immeasurable odds, you were drawn to this building, to your son."
He dropped his hand from her back to his side and looked around. Their third party had vanished during the conversation.
"Peyton?"
Only the wind responded. Cynthia and Mr. M's eyes scanned the area for the hippie. After a quick walk, they found him drawn to a nearby garden patch only partially ruined by the storms.
His voice became distorted by the wind, but he was kneeling down and speaking with a small plant. Cynthia and Mr. M exchanged looks. She swallowed hard and prayed this was part of his garden tending habits.
"Would you go with him?" Cynthia asked.
It didn't feel right to let Peyton walk off to what Mr. M was convinced would be his final journey. She didn't know if it was the stress or other factors, but Peyton's mind hadn't seemed as sharp as usual.
"Even if I could leave Nouveau Depart in good hands, there is far too high a price on my head should I return to those mountains."
Cynthia couldn't stop the question from jumping off her lips. "What did you do?"
"I dared to ask questions and got in the way."
"Got it in the way of what?"
"If I knew that, I would be a dead man." He turned away from her and walked toward the mumbling gardener. "Peyton, are you ready to continue our training?"
Peyton turned around with his eyebrows sky high and a deepening frown. "I was just... yes, let's continue."
Mr. M gave him a reassuring pat on the back. Cynthia took this as her cue to leave. Nothing felt right anymore.
Peyton stuck around Nouveau Depart a few days longer than he had predicted. Neither Cynthia nor Mr. M addressed their concerns but helped him pack enough supplies to keep him armed and to fix minor wounds. The kitchen staff put together a few days worth of food for occasions when he couldn't find his own. The news of his departure travelled around the community quickly.
Vita saw him off with a hug and a 'thank you'. Mr. M embraced him and reminded him to use his training and weapons without hesitation. Cynthia brought Winston up to say goodbye, but he burst into tears before they made it to the dreadlocked warrior. Mr. M motioned to her to see to Peyton while he followed Winston's retreating form.
"Stay safe Peyton. We'll be here for you whenever you need to return," Cynthia said.
He nodded. "Thank you. This is something I need to do." He looked her dead in the eyes. "You understand, right?"
She swallowed his body with a tight hug. "More than anyone. Thank you for all your support and company. It's made this experience much easier."
Peyton's arms tightened on her body, and she felt a warm drop on her shoulder. "You'll find her. I know you will," she added.
A man and a woman stepped out of the crowd and toward Peyton. They waited as Peyton pulled away from Cynthia. "Peyton, if you need allies, we are willing to step forward and come with you."
The man's hazel eyes looked around the crowd more than the woman's who were fixed on Peyton. Cynthia's mind began to wander to Winston and his current state.
"Of course," Peyton said. "I won't ask you to endanger yourselves, but if you are prepared to come, I'm most grateful."
"We are more than ready," the woman said, nudging the man who finally committed to the scene at hand.
Cynthia saw Peyton off with a final wave and smile as she ran off to find her son. He would just be gone for a little while, and the couple's offer soothed her worries.
She found Winston and Mr. M in the trade shop area. Tears flowed down her son's face, and Mr. M sat nearby, speaking to him in a soft voice. Her chest tightened as she ran over and wrapped her arms around her baby.
"Sweetie," she said and gently stroked his curly locks. "What happened?"
His sobs intensified as she buried his head in her chest. She rocked him back and forth, humming a gentle song her mom used to sing. Her mind raced at the possibilities of what had him in such a panic. She just wanted to rid him of whatever it was that caused him such pain. Each shake and sob tore at her heart, knowing she couldn't do anything to stop it.
"It's okay, you just let it out and when you're ready, tell me what's made you so upset."
Winston nodded into her chest and snuggled closer. She looked to Mr. M who mouthed 'Peyton's departure'. Her brow creased. Winston hadn't overly connected with Peyton during their time together. She waited as she knew Winston would be forthcoming if she gave him a little more time.
"Why's he leaving, mom? He's going to a dangerous place and he's going to die!"
"He's a strong person and he'll be okay. He's doing what I did when I had to find you. He needs to bring his family back together."
"But this place isn't dangerous. Mr. M is nice and so are all the people. His new home is scary."
"Who told you that?"
Winston brought his hands up to brush away a few more tears. "You, Mr. M and Peyton always talk about it."
Cynthia sighed. They tried to make sure he wasn't around, but she knew her son. She and John used to find him hiding behind a couch or wall after they had put him to bed too. His big heart and curiosity were both a blessing and a curse.
"Winston, sometimes adults worry more than they should." She shot a look at Mr. M as he began to open his mouth and he complied. "Mr. M has been teaching Peyton how to take care of himself and how to work to get his wife back. He should be alright."
He looked up at her with big glassy eyes and his face scrunched up. "What if he ends up like... like..." His voice came out in a light whisper, "dad."
"Oh, sweetie." Cynthia pulled his body closer and held him tight as her own tears began to form. "Dad's in a better place now."
"Why did he have to go? Dad was a good person. He would have wanted to stay here with us!"
"I know, sweetie, I know. I wish he was here too." She choked down a few of her own tears.
"I want him to come back. You came back," he said, gripping her tight. "Why couldn't he make it too?"
Cynthia searched and searched for the answer that could satisfy both of them, but there simply wasn't one. She had spent hours and hundreds of tears contemplating the same matter. This was not the time or place to add more to the total. She took a deep breath. "Because... that's just how it happened."
"That's not fair." He released his grip and hugged his knees to his chest. His body rocked back and forth.
"Winston." Mr. M's deep voice caused both her and her son's heads to turn in his direction. "We must realize life makes little sense and has unsatisfying explanations. When I was your age, I had a friend, Huru. Back in my home country, he became a child soldier and for months I did not see him. As our family prepared to leave for the United States for our own safety, news came that Huru and a dozen other children from our village had lost their lives. Here I was, greedily running away from our country's problems like a coward, while they took my best friend's life. How is it fair that I escaped and he did not? We were both good people, one not much different from the other."
"Mr. M, please," Cynthia said. She watched more tears fall from her son's eyes. Couldn't he see this was not the right time for this story?
"Death does not cater only to those who live miserable lives. It does not discriminate or play fair. I am sorry you have to learn this at such an age, but the truth cannot be changed."
Cynthia knelt close to her son and rubbed his back. Mr. M's words had a bitter sting, but after watching the aftermath of the disaster, little else made sense. John would only exist now in her memories. Peyton had lost his young daughter. Vita, her family and friends. The two young men she had tried to save that first day perished not to mention her co-workers and the patients at the hospital. How many others had paid the same price? For what reason other than random chaos?
After a few minutes, Winston peeked his head out and rested his chin on his knees. His drying eyes settled on Mr. M. "Do you miss your friend?"
"Every day."
Winston wiped away a few more tears. "It doesn't go away?"
"It grows easier. The shock wears off, and you will learn to be okay without him. I try to live a life Huru would have been proud of."
"Is that why you joined the army?" Winston asked. He sat up a little taller.
A smile grew on Mr. M's large lips. "You are quite perceptive. Yes, I joined because I wanted to be part of an army fighting for the good of other people." Mr. M paused and looked closely at Winston. "I am convinced your father was a wonderful man. He would have to be to raise such a smart young man and keep an amazing woman like your mother."
Cynthia avoided his gaze and settled her eyes on Winston's small smile. He was too young to feel the strange tone and connotation in that compliment.
Footsteps echoed on the cement floors as dozens of people left the front lobby and headed back into the main area. A few loud voices carried over to their area.
"I can't believe they left."
"They?" Mr. M asked as his nails dug into his palm.
"Alex and June offered to join him," Cynthia said.
He hit his fist against the ground. "I spoke with Alex. He was aware of the nature of the trip, and we came to an understanding."
"Then you were bested by his wife. They know the risks and they'll be okay."
"I would have helped them prepare! There are so few survivors. We cannot risk losing any more people who are healthy."
"What happened to the man who wanted to fight for something good?"
"He saw the price you pay for trying," Mr. M said before standing off and heading for the lobby.
Cynthia swallowed her discomfort at Mr. M's fondness for dramatics and prayed that he wasn't about to take away Peyton's only allies and the higher chance of success. She had found support when she needed it and only wanted the same for her friend. She took Winston's hand and they headed to the kitchen to help refresh their mental states.